Monday, October 16, 2006

A Pastoral Song

Monday, October 16, 2006

This weekend forced me to break from reports and resumes, filling the vacancies that I'd created through my lofty planning to find some refuge at the end of a boda ride to farm. My friend Tony, actually the boyfriend of a collegue, but we're all friends here, has been inviting me out to his farm to see his cows for weeks now and I finally gave way. I thought I was going out alone and woke up early, showered with the joy of finding the water cold, and when I came back my roomate was gearing up as well. So we took off, this time on the back of a motorcycle driven by Tony through small footpaths to avoid the pounding dust left by the lories on the main road. The tall grass smacked my legs and arms as wove around holes and people in the typical boda fashion. We spun through fields and even a eucalyptus grove with trees rushing past each side and drove into the country a while.
Tony's farm started at a small gathering of huts where a couple of women were savagly beetings dried stalks, gleening the rice from the stems and gathering them on the ground. The first cow Tony showed, with such emmense pride, was his newly purchased milk cow. I'm not sure how polite it would be to state the price, so suffice to say that it cost considerably more than I have spent on anything out here, and Tony touched it and cared for it, giving her medicine and talking about his plans for the shed he'd built for her. When I ask Tony about his cows, if he is worried about them, or anything else he almost always responds, "So I love them so much." I couldn't imagine investing that, the money into something alive like that for my future. As I picture it, I would worry considerably about the wellbeing of these creatures whom I depended on for my own livelihood. The slightest sickness, a drought, anything like that would not only hurt them but threaten me as well.
I was thinking about all of that as we walked past a couple of corrals to find where the cows had gathered. Tony walked up to the heardsman, an elderly man with his boy standing a few paces behind, quietly waiting for something that I couldn't imagine happening soon. The man was watching a cow who had seperated some from the others. Tony explained it had given birth several months early the previous night. The result, a crumpled head of bones and fur that must have at one time been a calf, lay in the grass next to a spot matted down showing that the cow had probably slept there the night before.
The brown cow, still a mother by her own description occiasionally walked up to the folded body and licked it on occaision, seemingly attempting to clean it or provoke it out of sleep. When she wasn't tending her calf, she walked around in what Tony would describe as pain. The sad birth had also failed to force the entire placenta from the cow and resulted in her walking around with only half of it expunged from her body. I tried not to imagine the pain or the sadness of the event as I watched her attempt to relieve the situation. Thankfully, a process of water and salt eventually caused the mass to be pushed out and some respite was offered her.
The salvation of all of this was that Tony was not a destitute rancher with only one or two cows to subsist on. He and his uncle had quite a herd and many of them were healthy and walking around the hills above us. The terror of what would be meant if that were not the case would have been so much worse, if all hope had been staked on that calf being born in January or December, on a new life providing new revenue. Instead, we were lucky, Tony and ourselves. We got to rest from that sight by walking up to the other cows and playing with one called coocoo ("chew chew"). Coocoo is a distinct favorite of another friend and for obvious reasons. She offers herself in quite a friendly disposition, eager to be pet, and eager to lick the hands and pants of anyone who wants to enjoy her company. The thick roughness of her tounge, almost sharp, made everyone laugh and almost forget. She allowed us to return to the huts and play a couple of rounds of convoy before heading off further down the road to enjoy a nice ride past the fading green at the end of the wet season. I was glad for her because I didn't have to think so much about life and death and pain, and I could just enjoy the ride and the rest for a while, even coughing through the dirt and the bumps in the road.


All of us at Tony's farm


The heardsman and his boy


Tony


Me and Coocoo

Prayers and Sausages

Monday, October 09, 2006

Honored Readers, "Top" Friends, Guests and Subscription Holders, thank you for coming to this blog, all protocols observed.

Okay, that first bit may only be funny if you've ever sat through the incredulously formal beginnings to a Ugandan meeting of almost any sorts (including, for a while, until we explained the differences, the weekly staff wrap-ups we held in the office.) This last Sunday gave me the opportunity for a gathering where even that type of formality, however, might have seemed appropriate. Some of the staff and I took advantage of a trip down to Kampala to meet with the Boys to go to the Ugandan Parliament's National Prayer Breakfast. This is the mirrored occasion that happens in other countries where some of the religious elite gather with selected other guests and pray God's guidance in the ruling of a country. Also in attendance, and of far more importance than ourselves, was HE (His Excellency) Yoweri Museveni (the president of Uganda), Janet Museveni (first lady, Member of Parliament, and abstinence activist), the President of Burundi and several others. We arrived a little late and walked quickly past a considerable spread of food to learn that the main room was full and we would be ushered into an overflow area. Undeterred, we simply entered the main room anyway, and plopped down in the sparse empty seats we could find. Bobby, Tiffany, and myself were even lucky enough to find chairs all the same table, in the back corner with the artistes—singers, musicians and other accompanists for the celebration.

To my immediate left and right were two brothers from Fort Portal, nephews to the Minister of Ethics, who were invited (almost entirely through the strength of that connection, I would imagine) to the reception to sing various songs. The two brothers combined to form an amazing duo, one mostly played guitar and sang some form of harmony while the other sounded off in a nice deep voice at times, but at other times slipped into one of his on-stage personas as the African Elvis. (I would have dearly loved to see the Elvis bit, but sadly it's not being performed anywhere in Kampala The highlight, in some ways, of the morning, came when these two got up to pay tribute to their illustrious leader by singing a ballad they composed for him called The Revolutionary. I tried to remain as respectful as I could throughout the proceedings, but when the warbling came in announcing the dates of various conquests from the revolutionary days and the Elvis voice rang out, hardly anyone who was paying attention (at least among the tables I was near in the back) could avoid some small laughter. It was an amazing situation where if I were to create a parody song for the event, I could think of nothing funnier than what actually happened. All of that of course was compunded by the fact that we couldn't actually go procure the food we walked past until about an hour into the ceremony when our table was finally allowed to serve ourselves. At this point, the eggs looked tired, the bacon cooked too fast, and the sausage generally unappatizing.
currently.)

But for all the moments of comedy, confusion, and even boredom at the incredibly long speaches that to my Western-adjusted ears seemed to go nowhere and be about less than what occured to some of the speakers earlier that day, it was an amazing event. If just for the simple fact of looking at the paper the next day that reads "Museveni says Prayer Works" and I would think, that's right, he did, I was there. For more reasons than that, though, I was glad I was there. Listening to the speaches offered some insight into the thoughts of these leaders. Hearing presidents discuss their personal prayer life with seeming honesty and candor opened up the hopes that God had some hand in guiding their decisions and reminds me that if these men take time to seek answers from higher sources than themselves, I should dedicate more of my own time to the same.

The most inspiring parts came whenever anyone would touch on the theme of the morning, Peace and Reconciliation. Although many people danced around the issue in their speeches, it could be infered that at the base of these thoughts were grave concerns about the north. If peace is to occur, it will require forgiveness, if the country will move on, they will need to have the these thoughts forefront in their minds. The attentions that the people of this country must pay to ideas like what is expressed in Matthew, in the Sermon on the Mount, where we are called to forgive others before we ourselves are forgiven. This concept takes on so much more when you considered the weight of how others have tresspassed against them. In the context of debates circling the International Criminal Courts, amnesty for war crimes, and the inspiringly forgiving nature of Acholi reintroduction rituals.

In my typically American nature, I can take all of this in through slef-reflection and comparison. What do I forgive people for, not writing, sending packages, being mean, stealing, selfishness, all of these things which plague us in our basic levels and which we let ekk out of oursleves because we are so consumed with preventing the larger sins that we can neglect these smaller ones. Of all the things I have to forgive others for, most are small examples of the trials I fail at any given moment of the day. Compared to the litany of sins committed against these people it is staggering what these speakers are saying, what can and should be forgiven for real peace to occur. Even without the egocentric comparisons, it is a vast thing to hear that prayer and forgiveness are central to a nation, or should be at least. These sentiments are said, and how often meant, I'm not sure, but offered at least, and I tried to hear them through the cultural dissonance and pray in my own fashion that it was real.

developing

Saturday, October 07, 2006

So this last night I finished a 36 page report on the implementation of the Schools for Schools program in Uganda. Sometimes I am still reeling from moving out here, other times still adjusting to not working for the volunteer program, and then I am often sitting and contemplating the enormity of the task I have--to coordinate the logistics for spending somewhere around 2 million dollars that we will receive from donors in the next year. Even now, kids in high schools around the US are gearing up to build this link. They are preparing fund-raising activities and we are building the infrastructure that will join them, hopefully utilizing technology to allow the students to see what their money is building, from even such distances, to meet in some small fashion, the thankful kids who receive thier help.
If this sounds too much like propoganda or some sort of descriptive material, I'm sorry. I've been writing exactly such stuff for too long, staying up into the night and talking to many people during the day, trying to learn the finances of development, the logistics of construction, and even the opperations of electronics. Sometimes it seems like too much, but there is part of me, when I sit and look at the document I created, that thinks I might just pull it off. I don't really know how I'll do it, probably by hiring people that are actually well-qualified to the tasks and having them do all the grunt work, or some other such plan, but it will get done I think. In time, these schools will have clean water, better teaching ooportunities, adequate supplies, new buildings, and updated technology.
Still seems odd to say it. And to think about it. I was reading before I came out here, and remembering back to the studies I've made until now, and it always amazes me that I'm applying some of those concepts, struggling for sustainability, appropriate development strategies and everything else.
I don't really know what to say about it all, and my battery is dying anyway. Just wanted to let people know why I've been so busy lately.